Practice Makes Perfect
by InsideOutlaw
Summary: A laid up Heyes has his eye on a new challenge. The Kid has his hands full.


Hannibal Heyes was having a well-deserved rest after a couple of busy months of outlawing. Two banks, three trains, and a mine payroll office later, he was now seated on the front porch of the Harwood Inn in peaceful Littleton, Colorado, with his right leg propped up on the railing. Night was closing in, and the crickets had begun their evening concert. Heyes sighed happily and puffed on his imported cigar. He'd ordered up a half dozen earlier in the evening after a fine meal shared with his partner, Kid Curry. The Kid had just gone back inside for a couple of refills of sipping whiskey.

As he watched, a wagon turned off Rapp Avenue into the circular drive and wound its way towards the front of the hotel. Heyes could just make out, in the waning light, a large, hulking tarp-covered object sticking up about four feet above the wagon bed. The burly driver reined up the team, set the brake, and hopped down from the buckboard seat walking tiredly up the steps onto the porch.

"Evening," said Heyes, congenially, "Looks like the end of a long day for you."

"Yes Sir, it is. I'm done in, and the ponies can't go any further," answered the man.

He was well-dressed despite his menial job and Heyes decided the man must be well-paid, too, if he could afford the steep rates at the Harwood. Curiosity aroused, Heyes smiled and offered the man one of his cigars. "Here, have a smoke and relax for a minute. The hotel's only half full, so you won't have any trouble getting a room." He gestured to the empty chair beside him, the Kid's chair.

"Thanks, Mr…." the man took the offered cigar and accepted a light.

"Haggleston. Henry Haggleston, but you can call me Hank," Heyes shook out the match with a broad smile and extended his other hand.

"Nate Owens. I appreciate your generosity, Hank," Nate sat down heavily on the cushioned wicker chair next to Heyes's.

The outlaw let his gaze drift to the wagon. "What are you hauling that's got the team so tired?"

"It's one of those new-fangled Brooker safes. This one's supposed to be impossible to crack. Weighs a ton, though I guess I'm being paid good money to deliver it," sighed Nate.

"A safe, huh?" Heyes was fully alert now. "Where's it going?"

Kid stepped back out onto the porch with two whiskeys in hand. "Morris, meet Nate Owens; Nate, Morris Flingerhoff." Heyes took the drinks and handed one to his new friend Nate, leaning across the small table between them. He winced slightly at the movement. His old friend scowled at him and rolled his eyes before going inside to replace his pilfered drink.

"So you were saying, Nate? "

"It's for Ben Paulson. Who else in Denver is rich enough to have a safe that big in their house?" Nate took a sip.

"Ben Paulson, the railroad mogul?" Heyes was all ears now. He loathed Ben Paulson. The man had been personally responsible for the "dead or alive" language on their wanted posters and had gone so far as to offer a generous bounty to anyone delivering Heyes's head to him. Heyes happened to feel very attached to his head and resented anyone who would try to part him from it.

"The very same. Seems he's got himself a new, young wife and the only way he can think to keep her is to shower her with jewelry," snorted Nate. He took another sip of his whiskey and sighed appreciatively. "I tell you, Hank, you were a godsend tonight." At that moment, the Kid stepped back onto the porch with his new glass of spirits.

"Nate, good to meet you," he said in a friendly tone, as he stood leaning against a post. He didn't know what Heyes was up to, but he'd follow his partner's lead.

"You too, Morris," smiled Nate. He looked back at Heyes, "So if you don't mind my asking, what happened to you? It looks like that leg's paining you some."

Heyes chuckled. The man was no slouch. His leg was the reason why he and the Kid had chosen Littleton to rest up in. The last robbery hadn't gone as planned. Wheat had decided to change things up mid-way through the heist resulting in a bullet through Heyes's right calf. The outlaw leader had been so furious he'd drawn on his lieutenant and only the Kid's quick reflexes had prevented bloodshed. It had been his idea to get Heyes as far away as possible from Wheat Carlson. The gang was whooping it up in Denver. "I had a little accident. Danged if I didn't fall off my horse and shoot myself."

Nate roared with laughter. "You're pulling my leg!"

"I swear it's the honest truth or my name isn't Henry Haggleston," Heyes replied, "Ain't it the truth, Morris?"

"Oh yeah. Good old Hank here can't ride worth a darn; bounced right out of the saddle. Next thing I know, his gun goes off. Forgot to set his safety," laughed the Kid. "Hank might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he didn't deserve that. Did it right in front of the ladies church social. You should've heard the laughter…"

"That's enough, Morris," said Heyes with a steely edge.

"Why, he landed right in the middle of a mud puddle. Came up blustering and swearing and crying like a baby. You should've seen the looks on the ladies'…."

"All right. He gets the picture! I'm clumsy. Now let it go," snapped Heyes.

"Didn't mean nothing by it, Hank," said the Kid innocently. He turns to Nate, "Must be the drugs talking. He don't tolerate them too well; makes him kind of ill-tempered. Ow!" The Kid rounded on Heyes with his fists clenched. "What did you do that for?"

"Oops, clumsy me again. I was just moving my cane over to where I could reach it." Heyes was smiling sweetly at the Kid, but his eyes told a different story and the cane was held at the ready. The Kid got the message.

"Well, boys, it's been real nice chatting with you, but I hear a feather bed calling my name," Nate rose and nodded at the two men before going inside. The Kid waited a few seconds and then sat down opposite his partner.

"See that wagon the stableboy's leading off?" Heyes gestured towards the barn, "Guess what's in the back of it?"

"What?"

"The latest and greatest Brooker safe; must be that new model 303 I've been reading up on," crowed Heyes. "I'm going to go check it out later; you want to come?"

"You're supposed to be resting up. The doc told you to take it easy," hissed the Kid.

"Ain't nothing wrong with my ears or my fingers, Kid. Far as I remember-although I admit I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer-I don't use my legs to open them," chuckled Heyes.

"What do you want to open it for, Heyes? You know there ain't nothing in there," challenged the Kid.

"I need to practice, don't I?" Heyes struggled to his feet carefully.

"Sure you do," the Kid stood, too, and cupped his partner's elbow to steady him.

"I got it," Heyes brushed off his hand, "Don't mother me! Kid, that safe's going to Ben Paulson's house. Nate told me Paulson's got some jewels he wants to secure," Heyes stood gripping his cane tightly. His leg was throbbing, but he hardly felt the pain he was so excited by the prospect of opening the new safe. "Think about it, if I bust into it tonight; I'll have the combination. Once Paulson fills it up, I can waltz into his house and get it opened in no time."

The Kid had that mulish look on his face that Heyes absolutely hated. After a moment, the look was replaced with an evil, slow smile. "Paulson? Ain't he the fellow that wants your head?"

Heyes laughed wickedly, "Yes, he is."

"All right, Heyes; I reckon I can give up one night on that soft, feather bed in order to help a friend," The Kid slung his arm around Heyes's shoulder in a show of comradeship, but kept a firm grip and piloted his partner safely inside the inn and up to their room.

OOOOOOOOOO

The Kid held the shielded lantern high over Heyes's back, casting a soft glow on the safe's dial. He could see the sweat beading on his partner's forehead and he was wondering if the wound was causing him to fever. It was well after midnight, and they'd been out in the pitch dark stable for nearly an hour and forty minutes. It was too long. Heyes should be in bed resting, not kneeling on the hard, wooden bed of the wagon. The Kid was ready to pull the plug on this operation. "Heyes, it's time. It's not gonna open."

"No, just a few more minutes, Kid. I've got the first three numbers, there's just two to go," said Heyes sitting up and wiping the sweat out of his eyes.

The Kid held the lantern closer and looked at Heyes's eyes; they were clear. It wasn't a fever; it was the sweat of desperation.

"What are you trying to do, blind me?" hissed Heyes, fussily swatting the lantern away.

"Well, maybe you'd hear those tumblers a bit better if you were blind, Heyes," groused the Kid drawing away.

"Ha Ha, very funny," Heyes lifted the empty whiskey glass he was holding in his left hand and placed it on the safe leaning his ear against the bottom. His right hand began to deftly manipulate the dial.

"Okay, ten more minutes and then I'm hauling you out of here," said the Kid.

"Fine. Now shut up, will you?" Heyes had his eyes closed. The sweat sprang to his forehead again and dripped tear-like tracks down the grooves of his dimples. Seconds stretched into long minutes until both outlaws heard the slight, audible click of the final tumbler dropping into place. A tired, but triumphant Heyes smiled up at his hovering partner. "Aha, see? Not a safe built, I can't get into."

"I know, Heyes, you're a criminal genius. What were the last two numbers?" The Kid pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil, waiting for the response.

"Sixteen, and forty-eight. The combination's thirty-two, five, twenty-three, sixteen, and forty-eight. Is that what you've got written down?" the dark-haired outlaw grabbed for the crumpled paper his cousin held, but his stiffened leg threw him off-balance.

The Kid held the paper up and out of his partner's reach. "Say, do you remember that fifty dollars you owe me, Heyes?"

OOOOOOOOOO

The next morning, Nate found Heyes and the Kid waiting for him. The stableboy had brought the wagon around front and parked it in preparation for Nate's departure. As the wagon driver walked down the steps, Heyes wandered around the wagon, "Sure is a beaut, Nate. Why, anyone can see she's built like a fortress. I'll bet even Hannibal Heyes himself couldn't open this fine lady." Heyes patted the safe reverently while the Kid frowned at him.

"Come to see me off, boys?" asked Nate as he began to check the traces and harnesses.

"Actually, we're here to ask you for a job," said the Kid as he watched his partner drooling over the safe.

"A job? Doing what?" Nate was surprised and it showed. He straightened up and turned his full attention to the two men.

"Well, you see, Nate, it's like this. We've spent all our money and now we need to find some work. You know how it is," grinned Heyes.

"I do know how it is, but I also know it's not my problem," said Nate, not altogether friendly any more.

Heyes changed tactics, quickly realizing that the wagon driver was digging in his heels. "Now Nate, this is sort of a 'you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours' proposition. You were awful tired last night and I'm betting you're going to be tired again tonight when you arrive in Denver. Wouldn't you like to have a little help unloading this monster? Morris here is real strong," He was talking fast, the words coming in a torrent. Nate was spellbound by the speed of Heyes's tongue. "Now, I can't do much lifting myself 'cause of my unfortunate injury, but I can be real useful driving the team and I'm good with numbers. I'll make sure that cheap rascal, Paulson, doesn't try to stiff you."

At the mention of Paulson, Nate's neutral expression changed. Everyone in these parts knew how parsimonious the railroad man was. He would cheat a five year old out of his last penny. "And what's all this help going to cost me?"

"Not a cent, Nate. We just need a ride to Denver; we can find jobs there. You see, we ain't rich men, we're just honest, hard-working cowboys. When I got hurt, Morris here had to sell the horses to pay for my care. Now that I'm better, I mean to pay him back. Honest man that I am," Heyes finished breathlessly.

"Morris, does he always talk this much?" asked Nate.

"Only when he's not inhaling," answered the Kid.

Nate laughed. "All right, boys, it's a deal. Heck, I ought to be paying you two for the entertainment."

OOOOOOOOOO

"Twenty-four, twenty-five; I deducted the other twenty dollars for the vase that idiot broke," Mr. Paulson glared at Heyes.

"But he broke it when you shoved him into it!" snarled the Kid. It had taken all of the Kid's self-restraint to not go after Paulson when he had laid his hands on his obviously injured partner. Heyes had been too slow in getting out of the way of the arriving safe carried by the Kid and Nate and the railroad man had ruthlessly shoved him aside, cane and all.

"Boys, let it go. Mr. Paulson knows we can't fight him," said a resigned Nate.

Heyes smiled and patted the Kid's arm after seeing his hand straying towards his gun. "That's true, Morris. Mr. Paulson's an awful rich man. Why I bet he has a whole stable of lawyers working for him." Heyes gave the Kid a look, silently asking him to play along.

Paulson dismissively turned his back on the three workmen.

"Of course, Mr. Paulson also has a great, big old safe he doesn't have a combination to," Heyes smiled at Nate. The wagon driver was confused for a second, then his hand flew to his shirt pocket.

"Yes sir, Mr. Paulson, I can't give you the combination until I've been paid in full. Company rules," Nate held out his hand expectantly.

Paulson turned back and stared at Heyes menacingly. There was something about this man that rubbed him the wrong way. Heyes calmly stared back until Paulson looked away. "Fine, here's your twenty dollars. Now give me the combination and get off my land. If I see you here again, I'll have my men fill you with buckshot."

"Yes sir, Mr. Paulson. You have a real nice day, you hear?" said Heyes.

OOOOOOOOOO

A week later, Heyes and the Kid crept quietly out of the Paulson's mansion. Their pockets were over flowing with jewels of the finest craftsmanship and each of them carried a canvas sack containing cash and negotiable bonds. There had been an incredible array of valuables stored in the safe. They'd gotten in and out in record time having cased the place while making the delivery a week earlier. Clearing the property boundary, the two partners hurried back to their concealed horses and rode off towards the other side of town. They had a fence already lined up to move the stolen goods. He would also be able to convert the bonds to cash. By tomorrow morning, there'd be nothing left to trace.

"Heyes, what did you write in that note you left?" asked the Kid. He had watched as his partner had scribbled something on a piece of paper and placed it in the barren safe; then shut the door and spun the dial.

"It wasn't a note, Kid, it was a copy of my wanted poster," said Heyes.

Kid's mouth fell open at his partner's answer. Recovering, he asked, "So what did you write on it?"

"Bounty always receives part of its value from the manner it is bestowed—Samuel Johnson. My bounty in exchange for yours—Hannibal Heyes." The Kid laughed as Heyes spurred his horse into a gallop and rode ahead into the shadows with his partner by his side.


End file.
